


baby love

by Emeka



Series: mega-fucked stuff [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Breeding, Cannibalism, Cuntboy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Underage, Incest, Infanticide, Infantophilia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: A few scenes in the life of a man with a particular interest.





	baby love

Lieber considers the rare gift he has been given. Two perfect darling little infant boys, squish-faced and too many fingers, too small, on their chubby baby hands. Part of a set with a fraternal triplet, but the other was well-shaped enough to keep in the pool for general use. Both of their eyes are still a watery blue, but one has a cap of dark curls, the other barely visible glints of gold. The labia for the latter is fused together.

Decades and decades ago, long before him, a young man joined their flock with twenty newborns in tow as an offering. He called them his greatest treasure, claiming they were all his young (verified) and all born on the same day (close enough to look at them, and of course people wanted to believe). He would give them over as lifeblood and toys, on the condition that he be allowed to breed a firstborn from each for his further use.

It's been that way since. Of course whether they were all born the same day or not, the children grew at different times, became impregnated at different times, and the births of the children staggered. Now it has become that a few times a year the man has one brought to the chapel for their initiation. 

Lieber still remembers his most memorable attendance. He had been still new then, and quaking inside from the price he paid. The announcement had been made in the morning over breakfast. The thought of his third demonstration put him off his oatmeal, and served as another reason for how unsettled he felt.

The man, only in his fifties by then, walked slowly up the lane with an odd-looking boy on his arm; pretty at just a glance, but any deeper, and you got a whiff of something Innsmouth. No one chatters during these but still a weight came over the room as they approached the altar. A ciborium of ugly wrought iron hung over them like a patient spider.

Lieber looks steadfastly ahead as the child is turned about to face them all, and starts a little when it is introduced as Mercy. Perhaps his role in bearing more children gives him the honor of a name--but neither of the other two had been (later, he learns Mercy is born a twin to twins, a mark of favor).

"My child has reached an age to breed," the man states. His warm, deep voice echoes easily throughout the room. Lieber almost feels it bouncing down to him from the roof. It's a strange match for his already wrinkled, mottled face. "At only ten, he will take up his duty... the duty fated for him since birth."

Mercy is dressed more than the children here typically are, a fact that is used to sublime effect as he submits to his defrocking. Long socks are slowly peeled off his legs, leaving striated lines that beg to have fingers run over them. A burgundy skirt in airy cotton falls teasingly off his hip and Lieber tries not to fidget when the supplicant beside him takes out his cock and starts jerking off. He's feeling a bit uncomfortable in his own trousers (had to be lacy pink panties, of course it did, already wet in the little mound) but he's not yet that free of shame.

The child's blouse is kept on (artistic contrast?) with his panties as he's set up on the altar. A shame; he personally enjoys the sight of a boy's ribs and flat, hard chest. But he is intrigued by little Mercy's wriggling hips and arched back as he lays down and displays his gusset, turned red. It's refreshing. The other two had been as nervous as horses, legs tight, faces pale. He can not say whether they have any idea what is in store for them, or whether it's just the change that upsets them, and what the difference is between them and Mercy.

The panties are pulled down his legs in a single businesslike gesture, a movement that, all by itself, says all it needs to about what the man's feelings ultimately are. It's a shame; if Lieber had such a bevy of cute boys, he'd cherish and love them. Especially after… after...

He is happily distracted by the sight of Mercy's swollen little puss, and the thick strings of juice it's exuding that can be seen even from his none too optimal seating. Almost certainly ovulating; had the other two been as well, he wonders? You wouldn't think so to look at them, but their palpable anxiety would have dried them up. And what's the point, really, of a public breeding if they _aren't_ ovulating?

It's begging for a tender fuck. A romantic-like breeding in bed, a worship of his baby-fatty mound and lips growing more defined with hormones and arousal. Welcome to adulthood.

His cock is really starting to hurt now. Maybe he could just take it out to release the pressure… no, he couldn't. 

The man unzips himself from his trousers, producing a cock fit to rival a horse in size. It has gotten uglier he hears, over the years, with new wrinkles and mottles, but the excited way others speak of it seems to indicate this is a good thing. Perhaps that is also artistic contrast; the young and fresh, the old and weathered, the pretty and the plain. It does look enchantingly grotesque as it hangs beside Mercy's vulva. 

Then it slides in, slow, steady, without remorse. The other two cried and struggled and bled all over the place. It had been a torture they couldn't escape from. For Mercy it seems like torture of another kind. He cries out unabashedly even on the entrance thrust, little feet raising to pull on the hips of whatever generation of 'grand' his father is. The fuck never departs from this rhythm, never falters, like a well-timed machine, saggy balls banging against the round tush. It serves its purpose, Lieber supposes, to inspire a feeling of impersonal inevitability about breeding. But it is a shame not to have fun with such a responsive child.

Mercy pitifully wiggles and whimpers through his breeding, hips trying to quicken, hands scrabbling onto any body part for purchase. Every part of him says he wants more and harder. Lieber privately makes guesses on how often he comes to help him ignore the loud slick sounds coming now from his neighbor. He cries out so loudly and often that it seems continual and the cock fucking his adorable little cunt soon shines with his baby juice. The only sure one is near the end when he finally unloads a thick libation of cream that drip-drops down the altar. The man hilts himself in all the way and goes absolutely still. His balls are droopy even at this stage and can't manage more than weak pulses as he fills him up. 

Lieber kneads his knee in dissatisfaction. His neighbor utters a loud grunt, followed by the minute sounds of ejaculation. It was a pretty good show. But in a way he preferred the other performances. Watching this was like watching a porno with beautiful actors, an intriguing set-up, but a poor execution. His cock is still hard but it seems like a waste now to masturbate. Maybe he's too much a romantic. 

That had been his only interaction with Mercy, and not even a direct one: watching him lose his virginity to get bred. They all have their favorites, and the man is no different. Most of his pets were kept away from others, for his own use. He has never seen any of his children past their breeding.

Lieber's own interests are such that he never has his pets for long. It's a typical state for those with fatal desires. Occasionally he makes requests for more and rarely he is answered. Infants are rare, valuable pets. But when he heard Mercy was finally of an age that further children of his were being given away, he had to apply. It was like a feeling inside him, whispering that it was kismet. There was no ignoring it.

And lo, to his great excitement and sorrow, he had been given a pair from a triplet set. Unnamed, and not destined to be given one, though privately he referred to one as Merry, and the one with the fused labia as Mercia. This should be a chance, he tells himself. Spend himself on one, grow the other up. Maybe he can start making some babies of his own. 

He knows he won't. He knows his faults by now. He is selfish and short-sighted, impulsive, unable to resist his desires. His fingers tremble just changing them. How can he resist for years on end until breeding age? 

Even his romanticism is just a part of his desires.

The first night he lays them in his bed where he can reach over and feel their chubby bodies whenever he likes. He separates Mercia's legs and uses a scalpel to properly separate the labia. The poor baby cries and kicks so much, and it bleeds all over his sheets. He'd eat it out to help make it feel better, but drawing blood to the area will probably make it bleed more. All he can do is hold a cloth down and sing lullabies until it finally stops.

Lieber tries to think of himself as a father inbetween his extracurricular activities, which for now is just dandying them, licking a little (Mercia always very gently as he heals) and sitting them naked on his knee. He feeds and burps them, walks them in the garden they will never see when they grow older. He learns their little idiosyncrasies. Merry cries and laughs at the drop of a hat, spits up his veggies, hates having feet on his pajamas. Mercia is far more placid, to the point of being still even through most of the night, which worried him at first that he was growing weak from infection. 

He never knows exactly when it's the end. One morning he'll wake up and he'll simply know.

Had he had any foreknowledge of what would happen the night he gave his little brother up? No, he couldn't have... but the assurance comes quickly, before he can delve with any depth into his memories. He'd just thought they could get a little shelter, a little food. If he had _any_ idea of what would be required, it was nothing he hadn't already been doing to him. They were orphaned after all, and he was fourteen and horny and lonely. His seven year old brother was his only source of warmth.

Many nights they curled up together in trash and dead leaves, shivering even in the summer. It became impossible to ignore how their bodies slotted so perfectly together. He was careful, so careful. For his brother's sake. He hadn't even really fucked him the first time, just kept it in as he held him, fingers strumming his immature pussy to help him through the experience. It had never been just for himself. He always fingered or ate out his brother when he fucked him. It was only fair.

So if he had expected anything, that was all he had. He went to the old cathedral they inhabited with his little brother in tow, those twenty years ago, and offered him up... as sacrifice, though he had thought it only a strange choice of word. What do you expect, from cultists?

He hadn't expected the dismantling but he sat and watched the whole thing through. They'd do the same or worse to him if he tried to run.

It had been fine, at first. They laid a blanket down in the vestibule and locked both doors, before they took his brother from behind his back. I'll be right here, he said. His baby brother looked even tinier than usual on the blanket, surrounded on all sides by men in flowing black robes, peering down at him with abstract masks of bone and metal.

The first one fucked him nice and slow until he came on his belly. The next took his turn in his cunt while another had his mouth. He cried a little, scared by such strange strangers, but the third man to take him announced he felt him coming on his cock.

He'd been so intent on watching his brother he hadn't noticed the axe come out. Not until the screaming.

His first thought upon seeing the severed leg was of the apples they used to steal from farms. The red skin and sharp white beneath. The other leg followed--and even the snap was like it. His heart hammers. He remembers summer, the sun glinting off the knife (also stolen) and bits of apple sticking to it, juicy clumps that he sucked into his mouth and the sweet-sour taste with the metal. The flesh so delicate it melted under his teeth.

The men went to the arms next. His brother's cries grew weaker and he tried to be still and think of summer. If he listened to him begging him for help he might act despite himself. And he was so energetic for being so little, and losing so much blood. It smelled like a whole lake of it in that little room, and the men chuckled as they waded through it. Later he'd see a spatter on his ankle and almost vomit.

Soon the room grew quiet with just the pulpy sounds of being cored. It was like watching five year olds finger paint. Completely senseless. They chopped off his fingers and toes, tore out his eyes and tongue, and stomped on them until they became mush. Even his nipples disappeared somewhere. One of them yanked open his mouth until his jaw broke and pulled his teeth out with pliers.

He felt blissfully forgotten for a time. Maybe they'd open the door and let him out. Or he'd let himself out. Either way. But soon they turned to him and a numb feeling clawed up his throat. He felt incapable of begging or pleading, anything but waiting to see what would happen. Their splattered masks hurt his head. They looked like twisted flowers and cyclones, others flat and clunky like an welder's helmet. He couldn't see how they saw out of them. He still doesn't have one of his own.

One took his arm on each side and dragged him over to his brother's corpse. Dragged, not because he resisted, but his legs were too woozy to work right. He fell the instant they released him. Communion. Take your part of the sacrifice.

His grasped his little brother around the waist, like he had so many times before, thankful at least the skin was still a little warm. It's like holding onto a pillow without his legs and arms--not in the way--but without the subtle drag of them with each movement of the body, and the balance of the weight. His cock was soft but his brother was so wet and well-used he forced himself in easily enough and the sex was automatic from there. A vague terror creeping up his spine drove him on to orgasm more than arousal. They stood around him and watched, and all he could think of was how they stood around his brother the same way. If he didn't hurry, maybe they'd change their minds.

So he eked one out. Fresh semen dripped from the abused hole. Easier to look at than the face.

Later that evening he ate the best meal of his life.

Years passed. He was given his name, but never a mask. Not for one born outside the cathedral... at least, not one with only the one sacrifice. All his life built into these mornings again and again, when he wakes up and knows it will be the end again. He pities them, he does, these poor babies, as he had felt guilty for using his brother in his loneliness.

It's another morning for it. The sun is warm and bright, the sky clear, and really it's a good day to die, if you think about it. It's the kind of weather he'd prefer to be buried in.

He rolls over and strokes the hair of his pretty babes, smiles when they blow bubbles at him. When he felt bad for his brother, he made up for it the only way he could think of, by giving him pleasure in return. Even if he had done something wrong in fucking his blood-relation, he could make them both wrong, or at least feel that he hadn't been one-sided or selfish. Look, his actions said to himself and an invisible audience judging him, it's not just for me! He _likes_ it!

Habit repeats for his babies. They enjoy it, don't they? He had his doubts at first but it didn't take long to see even infants can have orgasms. He made sure they enjoy it. It's all he can give them, every day until the final morning.

Merry's kicking legs get his attention first, so he decides on him first. It's as simple as that. 

Lieber pulls down his nappy and gently holds his little ham hock legs to the sides. His three-month-old vulva barely pulls apart. There's just the gleam of pink in the very inside like a cut of salmon. He dips his head down to taste a familiar by now softness. Each of his boys have been a little different but at the base they are all the same, fresh like clean linen, with only faint notes to separate them. 

Merry is well-used by now to his ministrations and quickly leaks a dime's worth of juice into his mouth. One of his fists happily bops him against the head. "Goo-goo ga-ga," Lieber mutters absently to himself and gets up on his knees. Nausea unsettles his gut but his cock is already hard and ready.

He lines the head against the shiny pink slit of flesh and tries to push in. The hole is so tiny he can barely feel it even against his meatus. This is always the hardest part. He could still go back from the edge and going forward takes such... effort. But this is what he wants. His own little apple to core.

A bit of pressure and Merry's face is already looking not so merry. The cupid's bow mouth wobbles. Poor baby but the thought is distant, in the back of his head where it has to be, while he steadily unceasingly drives himself in. He's stuck before he can even get all the way in. Pelvic bone or something, happens all the time. Forcing through works sometimes but it's easier just to grab the hammer he keeps in his bedside table.

He had never smashed apples in his youth--too valuable--but again it's summer, more like breaking off segments of chocolate he supposes. He's careful, and now experienced. It was absolutely awful the first time he did it, without really knowing where to aim to begin prying bone apart. You do a bad job, you get little crumbles everywhere and the jagged edge is aesthetically displeasing. Something satisfying in neatly breaking a bar in half, the clean edge, and lack of overall suffering in the world. He imagines it's like that inside their skin too, when one skillful blow is all it takes and finally the hips come apart.

Merry cries like they all cry, loud and lusty, already seeming unable to catch his breath. Squeeze out a wail, hold, gasp in, repeat. Mercia starts to sob petulantly to himself.

Lieber begins the process of forcing himself the rest of the way in. Blood helps less than it does in certain romance novels. Dries too fast and dries tacky. Not that proper lubricant would make this much easier. The cervix is only a moment's resistance, and he supposes he ends up in the canal. Merry's chubby baby belly is now fat with the bulge of his cock. It feels like everything is tearing around it. He's blendering the apple now as he thrusts into it, smushing the flesh into mush, a fine pulpy mush, sweet, all for him, red skin covering them both until the poor thing is all bruised and pulpy on the outside too. 

He comes hard, groaning, so hard he can feel his come-slit throbbing with each expulsion. Most of it comes spilling back out with the blood. Streaky milk. Taking it out pulls even more of it out in a deluge. It's the only part of him left with any movement.

Mercia is still crying. Surely such a baby has no concept of pain, or fear. It's barely sentient yet. It can't know what's going on around it. Still, he's never had two at once before; never had one listen to the other move on, and feels a little mystified by the sounds it's making.

Shh, shh, he tries, fingering the torn inner lips. He'd tried to be neat but it's nothing like breaking chocolate apart. It's been long enough that at least he doesn't think it hurts, so he rubs the slit slowly up and down, pressing carefully on the baby clitty until he feels it quiver finally. Mercia quiets down quickly, sweet baby. It's too bad he'll have to get him all anxious again.

His cock is sensitive but still hard for this special occasion. It occurs to him to draw his pleasure out, save this one for another day. 

It feels so good to glut himself though, to have another fresh little plush of skin to rub himself against.

He rubs the length of his cock against Mercia's vulva to warm himself further. From the outside he can see just how big he is in comparison. It's about the size of his entire abdomen. So so cute. Mercia trembles and kicks a little, adding a bit more moisture to the proceedings, before he decides to carry on.

"Easy does it, babe," he mumbles. Move it in bit by bit, head first, let him cry. This will ultimately save him. He wouldn't want to grow up in a place like this, even under his protection. It's so tight and good. Better to die as his cock sleeve than live as one. 

A little more; he's really squalling now but at least it seems he'll get through this with his pelvis intact. There's more blood than there was with the other but there's a trade-off for everything. The sheet is soaking with it, smearing all over his thighs. Mercia won't have any for himself at this rate. It's a wonder he can afford to look so congested.

He fucks good and hard into him until he's bulging up from his belly again and Mercia's eyes are bulging up at the ceiling, not gazing at him or anything anymore, moving only with each pound into his mattress.

His breath hisses inbetween his teeth as he finishes. It's the most all-consuming sensation he's felt yet, melting every nerve he has. It feels like he's coming his soul into this baby pussy. Less milk backflows this time to mingle with the red but it's just as charming as the other load. They accepted everything he had to give them... to the very end.

A distinguished pet, someone like Mercy, may be buried properly when they die. Not so for these little dolls. But he does find his own way to honor them.

The corpses are brought to the kitchen so they can be served as a special meal, human veal stuffed with his own flavoring, with other delicate spices to bring out the best of the tender meat. He is the guest of honor for the dinner he has provided for himself and a small group of others he would call comrades, if not friends. They joke, laugh, and question him about their final moments. He is a graceful host.

Afterwards, when he is as full of his babies as they had been of him, he sneaks out to the garden and buries beneath a rose bush the few milk teeth he cut open and tore from their jaws.


End file.
